Not Invincible
by SarahsaDork
Summary: The night of Wrestlemania 27 The Miz obtained a concussion during his match with John Cena, but what happened after the crowd left, and how does Cena take being the cause of his friend's pain? Eventual Miz/Cena
1. Chapter 1

It's been awhile since I wrote something and posted it on here, and never for this fandom. I figured I'd give it a shot though; this idea has been floating around in my head for a bit now.

I own nothing (do I really have to say this?)

* * *

><p>The kid had improved, there was no denying it. He could remember their first feud together, back in 2009. The loud mouth would strut his way out to the ring every night, decked out in anti-Cena gear, taunting him until he agreed to fight. It went on and on, week after week, until he finally agreed to do it. Their actual fight was a joke; it was over before he could even break a sweat, and he had really thought the guy would be done after that.<p>

Boy was he wrong. Tonight was a completely different story. He couldn't help but be proud of Mike. He watched him go from a friendless, hopeless rookie to the WWE Champion, and there was no denying that the kid deserved it. He worked his ass off, worked harder than anyone else in the company. Hell, The Miz worked almost as hard as himself, but instead of walking out to cheers of fans chanting his name, he walked out to boos and jeers. He understood, of course, having been heel before, but after being the face of the company for so long, John didn't think he could ever take all of the hate that came with being heel again.

He was already having a tough time. The Rock had finally returned to the WWE, and had made a point in ridiculing Cena and turning his fans against him. He got his ass handed to him every week, both from the verbal assault of The Great One and from the vicious attacks from The Miz, set on proving himself after being ignored as the feud between The Rock and himself grew. Mike was angry, and hurt, there was no doubt about it. The WWE Champ had worked his way up from the bottom, taking hit after hit, but he never gave up. He had finally realized his dream, but just when his real time came to prove himself, when his first time headlining Wrestlemania came about, he was left in the shadows. Forgotten and ignored.

But tonight was not about The Rock. It was not about John Cena. It was not about Stone Cold, it wasn't about Jerry Lawler, and it certainly wasn't about the US title. No, tonight was about The Miz. Tonight was his time to shine, and John was ready to give him the fight of his life, and he knew the kid would give him everything he had in return.

They sat backstage, prepping themselves for their fight. He watched Mike with Riley, bouncing back and forth, body vibrating in anticipation as their fight grew nearer. John had always made a point of staying relaxed before a match, taking his time to talk to everyone, to joke around and have a good time until he had to go to gorilla position. Always at ease, this was his world, where he belonged, where he was meant to be, but tonight he couldn't help but glance at the younger champ every so often. His smile stayed plastered on his face, his body language reading that he had not a care in the world, but he knew that tonight had to be perfect.

"Five minutes 'til position," the tired stagehand's reminder shook the former WWE Champion from his thoughts, as he unglued his eyes from Mike and Alex conversing near their locker room. Mike turned to look at him, a wide-eyed stare quickly morphing into a pompous pout as he readied himself to go out.

"You ready kid?"

"Please Cena, I was born for this. Just try not to break a hip out there old man, this is my night and I'm not about to have it ruined by you. Your time is over," and there was that smirk. That smirk had always drawn John to him, the smirk that he couldn't help but want to wipe off his face by pushing him against a wall and ravishing his mouth.

"Jesus Cena, I know I've kicked your face in these past few weeks, but I didn't think I'd rattled your brain enough to shut your pale ass up."

Mike was a good guy; he was funny, easy going and someone you could turn to when you really needed a friend to talk to. The Miz, however, was anything but those things. Sure John knew that he was just getting into character, but he couldn't help but wince at his biting words.

"Gorilla position, now." Well, it was finally show time.

The three men stepped up into position, each waiting for their individual cue to storm their way out, each mentally preparing themselves for the final fight at the most electrifying Wrestlemania in history.

"…you can hate me now, but I won't stop now," The music of The Miz's video blared through the stadium, reaching backstage where they waited. It was almost Mike's turn to strut out, his "Awesome" balloons already set up for him to kick through. Alex stood at his side, a giant grin painted on his face as he jumped up and down, the metal suitcase shaking in his hands.

With a final adjustment of his jacket, and a slow exhale, The Miz set his face into an arrogant pout and ran forward, out to the cheering crowd, Alex on his heels.

John waited for his turn, the choir getting ready as The Miz and Alex Riley made their entrance and strutted around the ring, taking in the mixed cheers and jeers from the crowd of the Georgia Dome. The feeling wasn't new to Cena, he had been in Mike's position before, and was sure he'd be there again. A knowing smile crossed his face as he imagined the younger wrestler bouncing around the ring, hopping up on the ropes and raising his arms in defiance, soaking in the audience's reaction. He would do Mike proud tonight, every muscle of his tensed as he readied himself for the coming match.

Finally he heard his cue from the choir, as they reached the peak of his entrance song, swaying together as a whole. He entered to the sounds of loud boos and the chanting of "Cena Sucks." It was a disheartening blow; his fans had all been turned against him due to The Rock's opening words. It hurt. There was still his loyal CeNation, but the loud jeers of the many drowned out the cheers of the few. He had come out determined, ready to show off how great The Miz had turned out, but the raging crowd had his blood boiling, and any thoughts of being civil were thrown out the window.

His head was pounding, the sounds of the stadium cancelled out by the blood rushing in his ears. He would have his own version of "team bring it" tonight as his sights focused in on the cold smirk of The Miz. The distinction between his friend and his opponent was gone, and he was ready to beat the snot out of the younger man pacing in front of him. Cena tossed his shirt into the crowd, not caring where it landed and waited for the chiming of the bell to unleash the raging beast inside of him.

"Ding Ding Ding" the bell sounded and the men were after one another, their animalistic instincts kicking in as they lunged at each other. Their movements were quick and well-practiced. They stepped together in a violent dance, with The Miz taking the lead, and John falling into place beside him.

He was struggling to keep up with their dance, The Miz in full power. John's anger had him tripping over his own feet, and stepping on the toes of his partner. He was botching move after move, and it was taking every ounce of Mike's strength to cover it up. The more he messed up, and more his fury grew, but he just couldn't find his rhythm.

"What the fuck is your problem?" The Miz snarled in his ear as the two locked together.

"Just shut up and fight," the words left his mouth in a low growl as they broke apart. He fought to get back in the grove, the continuous chants against him assaulting his ears. Riley interfered as the referee had his back turned, but the slight trip up allowed him to slow enough to get ready for the upcoming shoulder blocks, followed by his signature move. Mike came at him and was knocked hard to the ground as he was blocked by the larger man's upper body. Quick to his feet he came at him again, once more finding himself meeting the mat of the ring. He jumped to his feet again, only to be slammed down to await the hard blow of the five knuckle shuffle.

They pulled off every move perfectly, and as Cena raised him up for the attitude adjustment, Mike was ready for his next stunt. They finally found the right pace, but the fight was wearing down on the boys. Struggling for breath, Mike crawled for Alex's metal briefcase as the ref and Cena were distracted. He picked it up and charged at the older man, colliding with the front of his partner rather than his target.

Caught by surprise as he watched his friend tumble to the ground, Cena had his moment to strike. He came at The Miz full force, eventually throwing him outside of the ring. Mike's face twisted in shock and fatigue as he turned to run, most likely set on grabbing his belt and fleeing the ring before he could take any more abuse. As he mounted the barrier Cena charged at him, tackling him to the ground with a feral yell just as they had rehearsed. The crowd erupted in loud cheers as the two lay sprawled across the ground, each trying to gather their bearings.

"Jesus Cena, take it easy." The brunette panted, trying to push himself up off the ground to continue their act. He knew the older man took his job seriously, just as he did, but it was like something had snapped in the other man. He stumbled to his feet, getting ready to cross the next barrier. He had no time to brace himself as the 240 pounds of John Cena came barreling into him, tossing them both over the second barrier and onto the cold floor outside of the ring.

Mike's head made contact with the metal divider of the floor panels with a sickening crack. His body tensed as pain shot through his skull. John lay half on top of him, knowing something was wrong when the younger man groaned in pain, arm weakly reaching up into his hair, his eyes scrunched closed in pain. He tried not to move, afraid that rolling away would jar the young champion and harm him more. Wrestling was a serious business, and when a head came in contact with an object like that, every precaution needed to be put in place. His arm was across the champion's heaving chest. All anger was forgotten as Cena closed his eyes, catching his breath and hoping the other hadn't taken too much damage.

He ached to turn to the other, to make sure everything was alright. He couldn't detect the metallic smell of blood in the area, so at least the other's flesh had remained intact. The lethargic movements of the smaller man beside him caused his innards to churn. He barely heard the ref count them out, and it wasn't until the crowd began to roar loudly as the electrifying host of Wrestlemania came out into the ring that he remembered the next part of the night.

He pulled his arm back, propping himself up and looking at Mike. He bit his lip as he saw the other clutching at his head and rubbing his chest in restrained agony. He got to his feet unsteadily; ready to give the referee the signal to call out injury, but instead he breathed a sigh of relief as the champion clambered to his feet, dragging himself up as he clawed at the barrier.

The two made their way back to the ring as The Rock tossed the laptop containing the anonymous RAW general manager's message to the ground and he called for a rematch. John snuck a glance at his friend every so often as the two neared the ring. Their eyes met, a vacant haze covering Mike's eyes as the two stole a silent look, wishing the other luck.

Cena made his way through the ropes and into the ring, standing strong against The Rock, preparing himself for the impact of the coming Rock Bottom, his mind not fully there as he worried for the man standing by, breathing unevenly. He just hoped that The Rock would realize Mike was not completely himself, he knew what was in store for both of them, and he knew that The Miz was going to take a lot more than himself from the people's champion.

The bell rang and the referee turned his back as The Rock delivered one of his signature moves to Cena before fleeing the ring, backing away slowly with an eyebrow raised as the WWE champion slid in under the ropes, going in for the pin as the ref counted to three. He lay there panting, still draped over his opponent's body as he fought to stay conscious. John turned into him, their faces inches from each other.

"Mike. Buddy, stay with me," The words were nonexistent to everyone in the stadium but the two wrestlers. The Miz's eyes fluttered closed for a minute before slowly opening again to stare into the face of John Cena, he cringed as the bright lights assaulted his eyes.

"I'm fine Cena, just worry about yourself." John stared at him a moment longer before Mike rolled off of him and a nearby ref came over to pull the loser out of the ring.

The Rock continued to back up as he watched the retaining champion rise slowly to his feet, a dazed look on his face as he clung to his title while his hand was raised into the air. The crowd erupted, in both cheers and boos as The Miz stumbled towards the turnbuckles, climbing the ropes, clinging to them with white knuckles as he almost collapsed.

The fans noticed nothing, caught up in their own celebrations as Mike tried his best not to fall over as he pumped his fist into the air, maintaining his cocky attitude while he celebrated his victory. As he backed down he turned to the host, still paused at the end of the entrance ramp. Their eyes locked together and Mike's eyes widened in panic as The Electrifying One stood there, contemplating his next move.

The champion backed up as The Rock finally made up his mind, charging into the ring, set on destroying the young man in front of him. His fists flew as Mike dropped his title, arms rising up to protect his face and head from the raining blows of the larger man, backing away into a corner as punch after punch made contact with his body. The Miz wanted to fight back, aching to throw at least one punch before he was defeated, but his body didn't have the energy. His skull pounded, his knees trembled, his chest heaved and his stomach twisted as he fought to keep his feet. Finally he was slammed to the mat, still and panting in the middle of the ring. The People's Champion looked up at the audience, eyebrow cocked as he prepared himself for his next move, the crowd going wild as he set himself up for The People's Elbow. He charged one side of the ring, bouncing off the ropes, charging the other side before stopping above the fallen champion, raising his elbow high before crashing down on the weakened man at his feet.

It was over for the crowd nearly as fast as it began, but for both Mike and John it felt like an eternity. Mike wanted nothing more than to get back to his hotel room and climb into bed, while John ached to check over his friend. He knew that injuries were just part of the job, but the guilt was getting the best of him, and head trauma was no laughing matter.

The Rock stepped out of the ring as the night ended. The crowd erupted into cheers one last time before filing out of the stadium, content with the show and ready to make their way back to their respective homes or hotel rooms. Alex Riley made his way over to his mentor, crouching over the slightly older man still lying in the middle of the ring.

"Hey champ, let's get going before the lobby fills up" he shook his friend, oblivious to his discomfort. "Come on I bet the locker room is empty by now."

"Just give me a minute Alex," the weak order dropped the smile off the younger man's face.

"Mike?" His eyebrows came together in a crease of concern, "I know Johnson hits hard, but I didn't think he made that much contact. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, just…just back off a bit." He sat up slowly, glaring at the man beside him, hand coming up to run down his face as he exhaled slowly.

John stood by the ring, glancing back at the two men sitting in the middle of the mat as he made his way back up the ramp. He ached to get in there with them, wanting to check over Mike and help him backstage and to a trainer, but he couldn't break character. There were still fans in the area, and a ref came over to escort him backstage and away from the champion. A few fans called his name and thanked him for the good fight, but his mind wasn't focused on them.

He made his way backstage and to his private locker room. He removed his remaining sweat bands and slipped a clean shirt over his head before grabbing his bag and heading towards Mike's dressing room, hoping he could catch the younger man before he left.

As he rounded the corner he found a wary Miz walking down the corridor, with an unsure Alex Riley trailing behind him. He locked eyes with the rookie, and he saw a concern that matched his own in the dark blue eyes.

"Mike, man that was a great match," He tried his best at small talk as he jogged over to the duo, not wanting to irritate the other more after being snapped at in the ring.

"Every match with me is a great match Cena, now if you don't mind I just want to change and get out of here. I've been up since 5AM. I think I deserve some sleep before the press day tomorrow."

He stopped short as the door was slammed in his face. While being rejected didn't faze him, the fact that Riley had been locked out of the room caught him by surprise.

"He's the most stubborn jackass I've ever met," Riley huffed before sulking off to the group locker room. The WWE Champion and his rookie had a great relationship, but when Mike turned standoffish, he was a bit hard to deal with.

John, unlike Alex, had a bit more patience, having been in the business long enough to know that any well trained wrestler would deny flaw or failure until they were blue in the face. He stood outside the superstar's door, ready to throw the guy over his shoulder and take him to the hospital himself if it came down to it.

He had really grown attached to the young man over the years. When Mike was fresh on the scene he caused a lot of heat with the other superstars, and John had been one of the only ones kind enough to reach out to the rookie. They had a bit of a falling out in 2009 when their storyline took off. He had been dating Randy at the time and his attention trailed away from the struggling wrestler. The loss of his only ally turned Mike cold, and he played up his character of The Miz even more, going as far as to act the part backstage as well as in the ring.

It had taken some time before Cena noticed how much his friend was hurting, and it wasn't until he heard the rumors that Mike and Morrison had broken up that he realized what an ass he had been. He had made an effort not to display his relationship with The Viper as much backstage as he once had, and tried his best to salvage the friendship between Mike and himself.

Eventually Randy had lost interest, stating that John's attention was elsewhere and that he didn't want to waste his time on someone who couldn't offer him the same amount of commitment back. They broke it off, leaving John confused and heartbroken. That night he drank away his sorrows with Mike by his side, and their friendship flourished once more. A week later he realized what Randy had meant. He had fallen helplessly and hopelessly in love with the cocky and energetic Mike Mizanin.

The turning of the doorknob shook him from his memories. He stepped back as the door slowly opened, revealing a disheveled Mike leaning heavily against the door frame, breathing slowly with his eyes squeezed shut.

"No more crap Mike, you have to go get yourself checked out." Mike was startled by the sudden words and almost toppled over as his eyes snapped open.

He heaved a heavy sigh seeing John in front of him, "How many times to I have to tell you I'm fine and to mind your own business?"

"You can tell me all you want. I'll only believe you when you actually prove it."

"And how am I supposed to do that Senor Jorts?" Mike snorted at the lame nickname he had come up with.

"Maybe when you don't need the doorframe to keep you on your feet?" The blunt words wiped the smirk off the shorter man's face.

"That's all I gotta do?" The words slurred together slightly as he eyed the man in front of him.

"That's all you've got to do." John waited, arms crossed and feet planted firmly as he waited for Mike to make his move.

Taking in a deep breath, Miz clenched his jaw and pushed himself away from the frame. He smiled triumphantly as his legs locked in place and he managed to stand without swaying too noticeably.

"There! No problem, can I go now?"

John eyed him for a moment, eyes lingering on the pale face of his companion before nodding slowly and stepping back. Maybe the kid was just tired and he was worrying too much. Maybe it would be best if they all just headed back to the hotel and went to bed.

"Fine. Fine Mike, you're a big boy. You can take care of yourself." Agitation took the place of concern and he turned to leave, but then he caught the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye.

Mike made to step forward, completely intent on finding Alex so the two could drive back over to their make-shift home for the weekend. As his body shifted his knees gave out beneath him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. John's reflexes took complete control and he caught the falling body under the arms before he could even process what was happening.

"Mike? Mike!" He eased his friend's body down to the floor, pulling him up so that Mike's head could rest in his lap. "Mike?" He tapped the pale face of his friend lightly, panic setting in, "Michael open your eyes. Come on buddy, don't do this to me."


	2. Chapter 2

And so it continues. Sorry to leave the first chapter like I did, but I wanted to get at least part of this story posted.

* * *

><p>He looked up and down the hall, praying that Alex would come back looking for Mike. His gym bag was out of his reach and he didn't want to risk jarring Mike's head by straining to reach it.<p>

"Woo woo woo, it won't be long before they start pushing the Long Island Iced Z for WWE Champion!" The voice drifted down the hall, and the sound was music to John's ears as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ryder!" The young superstar rounded the corner with his tag team partner, Primo, by his side and froze when he saw the sight in front of him.

"Woah, broski down!" The smile fell from his face, but his easy language never left, and that brought a slight comfort to Cena's pounding heart.

"Zack, I need one of you to go get one of the trainers or the paramedics ASAP!"

The tan twenty-five year old nodded before taking off down the hall, throwing a "you know it!" over his shoulder.

Primo stepped forward, but then thought better of it. "I'll go get Riley." Cena watched the short Puerto Rican superstar turn on his heel before taking off in the other direction after receiving an appreciative, though weak, smile from Cena.

"Hold on Mike, help will be here soon." He looked down into the face of his friend, his heart breaking at being the cause of Mike's pain. The eyes of the champion fluttered behind their lids and Mike scrunched his face in discomfort, body twisting weakly in the lap of the strong body cradling him.

"Oh thank God," Cena whispered to the heavens above, before leaning closer to his friend lying in his arms, "Take it easy Mike, try not to move. We're going to get you help, I promise. Everything is going to be alright."

"They're down this way, right outside of the ultimate broski's dressing room." The sound of hurried footsteps grew closer as Zack and Primo rounded the corner, rushing down the corridor with Alex Riley, an EMT, and a stretcher in tow.

"I need to know everything that happened," The medic wasted no time in getting to Mike's side. His dark green eyes focused on the champion's face as his trained hands reached for his bag.

"He hit his head pretty hard during out match; he hasn't really been able to walk straight since. He was coming out of his dressing room, leaning heavily against the wall and when he stepped forward he just collapsed."

The EMT nodded, never taking his eyes off of the man lying in front of him, "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

Miz turned his head away from the probing hands, face screwed up in pain. "Sir, I need you to try not to move," The man finally looked up to John, really addressing him for the first time, "How long ago did he hit his head?"

John strained to remember how long ago it all happened, the match was a blur but the time he sat there in the hall, Mike cradled in his arms, felt like an eternity.

"Their match happened about an hour ago," Alex answered for him. The worry was clear on his face, and Cena was sure he felt just as guilty for leaving Mike's side as he felt for being the one to cause this all.

"He most likely has a concussion, but it'd be best to take him to the nearest facilities to get him checked out." The three men nodded as the EMT turned back to the prone man next to him, "Hey buddy, can you open your eyes for me?"

Mike stirred for a moment, his lids creaking open to reveal his bright blue eyes, but they snapped shut again almost instantly.

"My name is Scott. I'm here to help you. Can you tell me your name?"

The only response was a weak groan as Mike lifted his hand to his head, breathing in deeply. Scott looked to the others for an answer, it was clear he wasn't going to get anywhere by asking the champion questions.

"His name's Michael Mizanin." Again it was Riley's voice that answered from somewhere close behind John.

Scott nodded his thanks before addressing Mike again, "Alright Michael, we're going to lift you up onto a stretcher and take you to the hospital, so try to stay still."

The Miz's lids shot open, looking at the strange man talking to him, eyes widening. "No, no, no, no. No hospitals," He shifted in Cena's lap, straining to get up, "I'm just…Just let me go back to my room. I'm fine, I don't need to go." He fought to stand; face wrought with alarm, but was quickly restrained by John and Scott.

"Michael, please I need you to not move. If you think you're up to walking out to the ambulance, we'll help you get there, but we need to take you to the hospital."

He began to thrash against the arms restraining him, panicking at the mention of the word hospital, "No! Let me go!" John's arms tightened around Mike, the younger man's violent movements causing John's heart to race and his muscles to tense. His mind was running a hundred miles per minute, stricken with concern for his friend, but also confused by his resistance.

Mike lunged forward, using all of his strength, but it was no use. His body was too weak, and he went limp, once again, in John's arms, chest heaving and face pale from his efforts. John visibly shook, his breathing shallow as he looked down into Mike's still face, studying the wary features.

"We need to get him up and going now," John looked up at Scott; he found a kindness and a comfort in the friendly green eyes. "Can you guys help me with him? I think it's obvious that you're all stronger than me." The EMT let out a soft chuckle, but it did little to ease the hearts of the Superstars around him.

It took a moment before anyone moved, and it was Zack and Alex who stepped forward. It was clear to all of them that Cena was in no state to lift the body still sprawled out across his lap. The two young stars knelt down, carefully lifting Mike's limp body out of John's lap, minding his head, as they placed him on the stretcher Scott supplied.

"I can have one of you ride down in the back with him, just in case he wakes up and panics again, but the rest are going to have to follow behind if you want to see him."

The medic began to wheel Mike down the hall as John got to his feet unsteadily, his legs trembling as they supported his weight. His blue eyes locked with Alex's, neither of them spoke. Both wanted to ride down with their friend, neither wanting to be left behind.

"Well we're going to head back to the hotel; we'll let the others know what's going on when we get there." Alex and John turned their attention to Primo, the small Puerto Rican's voice breaking up their staring contest.

"Yeah, but keep us posted, Mike is one of the best bros I know!" Ryder removed his sunglasses for the first time, his sincere concern shining in his eyes. "You two can settle who goes with him. Never leave a broski behind. Remember that."

The two wrestlers headed down the hall in the same direction that Scott had gone with Mike, Zack's voice booming down the corridor with a departing "Woo woo woo."

"You can go with him." John turned to Alex, shock clear on his face.

"What?"

"You've known him longer than I have, and I know you're the one he's going to want by his side." A deeper meaning lay behind the younger man's dark blue eyes, but John didn't have the time to waste to ponder it. With a nod and a rushed thanks he sprinted down the hallway, disappearing around the corner, leaving the rookie behind.

He hoped Scott had waited. He had already stalled longer than he wanted to, and he didn't think he'd have the energy or the ability to try to drive the way down to the hospital. He wanted nothing more than to be with Mike, he needed to be at his friend's side, his heart and body physically ached to be with him.

He raced past the few stragglers still remaining backstage, his jean clad legs pushing him forward as fast as they could. He burst through the doors just as Scott was loading Mike into the back of the ambulance with the help of a shorter, huskier EMT with a think mustache. Scott turned towards Cena as he made his way over, motioning for him to get in the back as the other medic made his way to the front of the vehicle, heaving himself up into the driver's seat.

John quickly entered the back of the ambulance, instantly going to Mike's side and taking his limp hand in his own. Scott climbed in behind him, shutting the doors and signaling to his partner that it was all clear to go. Cena ignored Scott as he went about his business of checking Mike's vitals; he then tried to make small talk with John, only to give up after several failed attempts.

The former champion's focus was completely on the still form in front of him, eyes checking over Mike's face and body. He took in the color that was slowly returning to Miz's face, the chest that was gently rising and falling with steady breath. He no longer looked to be in pain, and if it wasn't for the setting they were currently in, John would have thought that Mike was simply sleeping.

Mike's eyes flickered behind his eyelids, but made no motion of opening. John clutched at his hand, his thumb running in small circles over the warm flesh. He bowed his head in a silent prayer, begging for there to be no lasting damage. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to see Mike's bright blue eyes looking back at him, a dazzling smile on his face as he told John that everything was going to be alright. Part of him hoped this was all just an elaborate joke being played on him, that the ambulance doors would open to everyone pointing and laughing, Mike sitting up, yelling "gotcha!"

Except it wasn't a prank. He wasn't being punk'd. No, he heard the crack of Miz's head making contact with the cold, unforgiving floor echoing in his head. Every time he closed his eyes the image of Mike's skull bouncing off of the concrete flooded his mind. The grunt of pain, the unfocused eyes, the effort it took the champion to climb back into the ring. It was all too real, all too much of a reminder of what risks they all had to face when entering the ring.

The vehicle finally came to a stop and the stout driver made his way around to the back, opening the doors so that they could haul Mike out and into the hospital. John jumped out and stepped to the side as Scott and the other EMT brought Mike's stretcher out of the ambulance before wheeling it through the automatic doors. He was right on their tail, trailing behind like a lost puppy. He no longer felt like a successful wrestler and champion, in that moment he felt like a small child, looking for a friendly face to tell him that Mike was going to be ok, that everything would be better in the morning and that there was no need to worry.

His progress was stopped by an orderly as Mike was wheeled through a second set of doors. The young woman clad in pink gave him a soft smile and asked him to take a seat in the waiting room until the doctor came back out. Deciding to be of some use, he sat and filled out paperwork for his friend. The time they spent together over the years gave him enough knowledge to fill out the majority of Mike's forms as he waited for someone to come out and tell him what was going on.

Just as he finished the last bit of the form Alex came jogging through the doors, a bewildered look on his face as he searched for a familiar face. Relief rushed through the younger man's body as he spotted Cena, taking the seat next to the larger man.

"Have you heard anything yet?"

"Not a thing. They've had me sitting here filling out a dozen forms while they take care of him back there. You haven't missed anything."

Riley's shoulders sagged in disappointment, "He's going to be fine. He doesn't just talk up a big game; he does know how to take a good bump now and again."

"I know, I know. It just…it sucks being the cause of all of this. What if there's lasting damage, what if there's bleeding? Head injuries are a tricky thing Alex, and I don't know if I can live with myself if something goes wrong." John buried his face in his hands, rubbing his temples as silence fell between them.

"I shouldn't have left him." The words were barely a whisper, but they got John's attention. "He didn't look right, he couldn't walk straight. I kept asking him if everything was ok, asked him if the match was too much for him. His answers were short, he kept brushing me off. I was getting pissed off by how he wouldn't talk to me, and I just left him there." A heavy sigh left his body before he continued, "I was about to leave, figured he'd find his own ride home and that I'd see him tomorrow, then Primo runs into the locker room shouting that something was wrong with Mike. He half dragged me down the hall, but he didn't know how bad things were or what was wrong, and I didn't have the mental capacity to say anything, I just followed in a daze."

"I can't get the image of his head colliding with the floor out of my head. I've seen guys break their arms, snap their necks and tear their bodies apart, but it never makes it easier."

"I don't know if he'd want me telling you this but-"

"Hello gentlemen, I'm Dr. Boff. Are you here for Mr. Mizanin?" Riley's words were cut off as a petite blonde woman in her late thirties stepped in front of them, examining the chart in her hands.

"How is he?" The two men simultaneously asked as they stood up from their seats.

"He's awake now, we have him lying down at the moment, but I'm sure he'd be happy to see a familiar face." She offered them a pleasant smile and motioned for the two of them to follow her as she stepped through the set of metal doors. "He has a concussion, nothing too major, and we didn't detect any lasting damage or bleeding. He's going to be feeling very soar for the next couple of days, and should try not to strain himself with any heavy lifting and should rest his eyes, meaning no reading or television watching."

They nodded as she stopped in front of an off white curtain, pulling it back with a rattle as it glided along its track, to reveal a tired and irritated looking Mike.

"I thought you might like some company Michael, and these two looked very out of place in the waiting room." Mike offered his friends a weak smile before looking away, fingers playing with the starchy white sheet on the bed beneath him.

"Now due to your concussion, it's best that you're not left alone, so we're going to keep you over night for observations." Dr. Boff's words had Mike sitting up in an instant, wide eyed and head shaking in complaint.

"Doctor please, I'm fine! It was just a bump, I've dealt with worse. There's no need to keep me here, I assure you." He flashed a smile at the blonde, but it was obvious that none of Mike's charm was going to work on her.

"It would be completely irresponsible of me to leave you unwatched tonight. No, I think it's best that we keep you, just for tonight."

"Who wouldn't want to keep me in their bed over night? I mean really, I'm the Miz and I'm awesome, but I'm also the WWE Champion. Really? Really? You think the WWE Champion needs a babysitter? Really." His trademark smirk was back in place, and it put John's heart at ease.

"Well he does sound more like his usually cocky self." The woman turned her head to John, her heart skipping a beat as he flashed her a smile, using his dimples and dashing good looks to his advantage, "Isn't there some other way we can keep a look on him without having to keep him here over night?"

"Well," she turned back to Mike, his head tilted down and a pout on his lips as he looked up at her, "I suppose I can release you tonight, but only if you have someone with you at all times."

Mike's face broke out into a huge grin, and he shot John a thankful look as Dr. Boff rolled the idea over in her head.

"It's not going to be easy. Whoever stays with him must wake you every quarter hour for the first two hours of you sleeping, and then every half hour for the next two hours, and then hourly after that. Each time he is awakened you must assess his consciousness with the AVPU test."

"And what exactly is the AVPU test?" She looked at John, a stern look on her face as she was interrupted.

"Alert, voice, pain, unresponsiveness. As long as he is alert and able to answer question, and responds to voice and pain there is no need for concern and he may go back to sleep, but if he fails any of those tests a doctor should be alerted immediately and I must ask you to bring him back as soon as possible."

Alex and John nodded as Mike continued to pout from his place on the bed.

"So Mike, which of your friends would like to be the lucky guy who gets to stay awake for you all night?" A smug smirk graced her face as she looked to the men beside her, sure that neither would want to put up with the responsibility of babysitting for the night and that she'd get her way and have Mike stay the night.

"I'll do it." The smirk fell from her face as John volunteered himself, "I've got an extra bed in my room, and I'm really the reason you're here in the first place. It's only fair."

The small woman threw her hands up in exasperation, "Fine! Just check him out and get him out of my sight then. I have other patients to attend to that actually want my respected opinion." She walked out in a huff as a nurse came over to assist the three men in getting Mike situated in a wheelchair, as was policy for the hospital, and wheeling him to the front door.

"Make sure to rest, and take a Tylenol if your head bothers you tomorrow morning. Don't be surprised if you feel nauseous or woozy. No television watching, no reading, no bright lights."

"So, no fun?" The woman offered Mike a small smile at his comment.

"No fun for the next couple of days. I know you guys work most days out of the year as part of your job, take this as a slight vacation until you're feeling better."

"A superstar's work is never done, what would the WWE universe do without their champion?" John and Alex rolled their eyes as Mike lifted himself out of the chair, still a bit unsteady, as they reached the front doors of the building.

"Just take it easy, I don't think Dr. Boff could handle seeing you again anytime soon." The pleasant woman smiled and waved them off before returning to her duties.

The three men walked out to Alex's rental car, Mike stumbling every so often, but pushing their offered hands away. A strained silence had filled the air once they stepped out of the building, and the smile that had previously graced Mike's face and fallen and was replaced by a hard scowl as they made their way across the parking lot.

"Oh Cena, I grabbed your bag before I left. I wasn't sure if you had driven yourself down to the show or if you rode over with someone else, so if you need me to drive you back over to the stadium it's no problem."

"Thanks Riley, I appreciate it man. Randy called while I was filling out forms and I told him what was going down so he took the car back over to the hotel. So we're good to just head back to our rooms and get our wittle champion into bed." He was sure his jibe would get a rise out of the silent superstar, but the younger man barely offered him a shrug, climbing into the back of the car and resting his head against the seat in front of him.

Alex and John exchanged worried looks before getting into the car, John no longer sure of how the night with Mike was going to turn out.

* * *

><p>One final part left, reviews are always welcomed :)<p> 


End file.
